Lyrics Bond Street Catalogues - Andy Bell

Bond Street Catalogues

A parasite on affection
A leach on love
And siphon off what is good intent
To an offshore bank account
You fame the love game
For short some game but then
After when the pole sawed off
Wearing your finest pink rubber washing up gloves
You thinking sex with him something
And for sure the thought of it
You really can’t stand it
Cause you’re married for money not for love
But he dribbles his food you’re thumbing through
The bond street catalogues
But when he ciphered to his card philosophy
A nodding donkey in his company
You brace his and wept as long as you can
Make a bit and wait for your next tuck and nip
In continents into his bag just drips
And his nurse wipes his ass clean of yesterday’s shit
One worked out which of his antique shoe
To give you pocket money for
The bond street catalogues
Did it dawn on you when you married him
That you may well have to carry him up the stairs
To the marital bed
Where you made every excuse and left
He knew your off the top proposal
And subsequent hasty engagements
That you my dear were just after
Some sort of financial arrangements
He played along and he framed it
Because company when you’re lonely is contagious
But he recalls how bitter and
How stunned you were to love of his trust funds
The bulk of what you thought was his last will
Was tied up beyond the reach of your good self
So you chummed out a stipend
A salary which you draw every month
With unconcealed
When he dies and you just can’t wait
You backing out house or two upon his large estate
But for now it’s a slob it’s a full time job
A tiny compassion for your baggage for
The bond street catalogues
Cause you’re married for money not for love
But he dribbles his food you’re thumbing through
The bond street catalogues
The gloss of that mutually beneficial arrangement
To reality dawned to this bitter estrangement
For the age gap you claimed you could not see
Is a generation gap of enormity
What you calmly thought would be let’s say fair
That you’d breeze through with ease now full term care
Lined by treasures you assume would be there
Not savvy at all dear to complete cashed away
But still in your dreams you’re busy marking off
What is that you have and have not got
In the now aging and dog-eared
Bond street catalogues
Cause you’re married for money not for love
But he dribbles his food you’re thumbing through
The bond street catalogues
He calls your name with a splatter and a cough
And a heartfelt sorry that he’s feeling so rough
You reassess your skills and look happy with your lot
And put back on the shelf again
Put back on the shelf again
The bond street catalogues
The bond street catalogues